Outsider
by CoutureWriting
Summary: Dorne has been hiding a secret for years; they harbour Rhaegar and Elia Targaryen's sole remaining child. Elaerys is invited to court by the new King, Jaime Lannister. Fiery and headstrong, and with resentment for the death of her family at Lannister command, what will she do when she finds that she not only clashes with Jaime, but is attracted to him, too? Jaime/OC
1. Elaerys Targaryen

_Hello! If you're reading this you're already amazing. I just realised the other day that Jaime is becoming one of my favourite characters. Don't know why, since he pushed Bran out of a window and is really just a tosser... but there are a few reasons (in the books, I won't spoil it for you if you haven't read it). Anyway, I hate Cersei with a passion, so I was thinking about pairing Jaime with an OC character... I hope I've done it justice... I will update as soon as possible. Please read and review if you like it... xx_

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Jaime Lannister sat on the Iron Throne. _Jaime Lannister _sat on the Iron Throne. Jaime Lannister sat on _the_ Iron Throne. Jaime Lannister sat on the _Iron Throne._

"Your Grace, there is talk of discontentment in the Riverlands," Lancel Lannister said. _Ser_ Lancel. Jaime could laugh at that, at least. He had heard it said that he was a poor reproduction of Jaime himself. _Poor indeed_, he thought sourly.

Jaime waved him away. Court was a tedious business indeed.

"Your Grace, is it true that you have invited Elaerys Martell to Court?" somebody else asked. Jaime might have recognized him, but the faces of these courtiers were indistinguishable to him.

Jaime sighed. He had invited Elaerys to Court. After his ascension to the Iron Throne, Dorne had come forward to announce that they harboured Rhaegar Targaryen and Elia Martell's sole remaining child, a girl of eighteen, whose existence was so well covered up that nobody had known of her, or her smuggling from King's Landing during the Rebellion. Tired of fighting, and ignoring calls to have her killed, Jaime had instead invited the girl to Court. She posed little threat. He had comfortably secured the Iron Throne and there was little support for the Targaryens in Westeros anymore.

"Elaerys _Targaryen_," Jaime corrected tiredly. "It is true. As a gesture of goodwill I have offered a place for the Princess and her household here. I hope this will help to reconcile any differences the Martells still feel exist between us."

"A Targaryen, Your Grace!" Jaime heard one man cry in outrage and disbelief. "A Targaryen princess in King's Landing! Why don't we just invite Daenerys Stormborn herself, eh? Why don't we just offer her the Throne too?"

"Quiet," roared the first of Jaime's Kingsguard.

"I have grown weary," Jaime announced. "No more about the Princess. I'm sure I shall hear enough of her when she arrives."

As he spoke the great doors to the Hall opened.

"And here she is."

The girl had announced herself as she entered. She was dressed in sea-green silk – a long, flowing skirt that was fastened around her hips with gold chain and a loose silk tunic that ended just above her midriff. The top was unforgivingly sheer—only the barest suggestion of breasts beneath. Her long, silver-blonde Targaryen hair was fastened upon her head in an elaborate knot. Her violet eyes met Jaime's, and she lowered to her knees.

"Your Grace," she murmured.

With her was a small party—a handful of pretty Dornish handmaidens in similar dress, a reserved-looking Septa and another—her shield, Jaime guessed—a man, tall and strongly built, with a head of dark hair and a stern-looking face, looking guarded and apprehensive as he stood steadfastly behind the Princess.

"Princess," said Jaime, getting to his feet. "You are most welcome in King's Landing."

"Your hospitality is famous, Your Grace, I feel privileged to be invited," she assured him.

Jaime was intrigued. This girl was not what he had expected when Dorne had revealed that they kept the Targaryen princess. He was painfully reminded of Aerys when he looked at her, but there was also a kindness that he had remembered in Rhaegar's face and a loveliness that she had inherited from her gentle mother.

"I suppose you would like to go somewhere more private? We have much to discuss," Jaime suggested, and from the corner of his eye he saw her shield's arm twitch to his sword.

She smiled and lowered her head. "You flatter me, Your Grace."

He motioned for one of his faceless Kingsguard to accompany them as he led Elaerys Targaryen out of court to the adjoining chambers. As they walked the corridor, he heard the shield's mutters of distrust.

"This should do us nicely," he said, stepping into one of the nicer rooms. Cersei had probably overseen the decoration herself when she had been Queen – red silk hangings in the open windows, vines crawling across the balcony and gilded golden chairs and tables strewn about the room.

"Wine, Princess?" asked Jaime, reaching gratefully for one of the cups. He poured himself a drink before she could answer and downed it.

She smiled stiffly. "No, thank you. I have never much cared for it."

He nodded and poured her water instead which she accepted.

"Please sit," he motioned to the table and took one himself.

She sat carefully, one of her handmaidens sat by her side and the shield beside them both.

"Forgive me, Your Grace, I have not properly introduced my party. Allow me to introduce my handmaidens; Issy, Bel, Malia and Gyliana. This is my sword shield, Osorros Blackmont and this is Septa Solene."

Jaime nodded at each of them, earning a glare from Blackmont. The man was as emotionless as a door. Jaime returned his gaze to Elaerys.

"Princess, despite the troubled history of our two Houses—"

"We do not forget," said Elaerys, her eyes flashed. "As I understand it, my mother was raped and murdered at your father's command and my brother and sister were slaughtered by _Ser_ Gregor Clegane," she spat.

Silence followed her words, and Jaime did not know what to say.

"Have I taken you by surprise, Your Grace? Do not think for one moment that I will observe or reciprocate your pleasantries. I call you _Your Grace_ because that is what you are. Thrones are won and lost. But rest assured that I will never forget how the downfall of my kin came about."

The member of his Kingsguard reached for his sword but Jaime barked an order for him to remain where he was.

She was even more intriguing now. She had left him wondering at what value she placed her own life. Someone who valued their neck surely would not address him in her fashion.

"You go to far, Your Grace," the handmaid beside her whispered into her ear. "I do not wish to see you harmed, my Princess."

Elaerys fixed him with a cold stare. "Continue, please, Your Grace. But please spare me the pleasantries. They do nobody any good."

"Very well, Princess. I will tell you what I am thinking. You see, I am wondering why Dorne has decided to let me know of your existence. Why have they not continued to pretend that you are a nameless courtier?"

Elaerys took a sip of her water and peered at him over the edge of her cup with a piercing lilac stare.

"I am tired of hiding," she said finally. "You have never known what it is for people to disregard your being just because they can't place a name to you. I'm tired of being hidden, of keeping my distance from everybody I meet and I am tired of being scared. I knew you would either call for my head or wish to meet me, and I think I am lucky it is the latter, though I am not sure yet."

Jaime raised his eyebrows. "I do not feel so threatened by your presence as to call for your head before meeting you."

She shrugged. "Robert Baratheon would have. He would have slaughtered any Targaryen as soon as laid eyes on them… or rather _have_ them slaughtered. The Northmen say that you can tell what sort of man you are if you kill your enemies yourself. That is true honour. Robert Baratheon had none. Do you know he called for Daenerys Targaryen to be killed when he heard she was pregnant?"

"I am not Robert Baratheon."

"It matters not," Elaerys murmured. "You fought on the same side, you shared the same woman and now you sit in his old throne, do you not?"

The member of Jaime's Kingsguard again reached for his sword, but Jaime took him by the arm forcefully. "I told you, _no!_" he roared.

To her credit, Elaerys did not flinch as the knight did. He nodded once and took a few steps back from the table.

"You talk dangerously, Princess," Jaime addressed her. "But I find you interesting, rather than insulting. It is not often one meets a Targaryen nowadays."

"I am also of House Martell," Elaerys said proudly. "My mother's blood runs in my veins as much as my father's."

"May I talk to you in private?" asked Jaime suddenly.

"We _are_ in private," Elaerys laughed.

"Go," Jaime ordered the knight, who bowed once and left the room. He stared at Elaerys expectantly.

She met his gaze for a few moments before motioning for her party to leave them without taking her eyes from his.

"Ela," Blackmont protested, but she shook her head.

As they slowly filed out of the room, Elaerys raised her eyebrows carefully. "And what is that you need to discuss so urgently in private, Your Grace?"

"I feel we have gotten off on the wrong foot, Princess."

"Elaerys," she corrected. "Princess to what? I shall never be Queen and I am not in the line of succession for Dorne. Elaerys will be fine, Your Grace."

"You are still a Princess, Elaerys. Your father was a Prince and your grandfather a King."

"Did you tell him that when you slit his throat, Your Grace?"

"I didn't tell him anything," said Jaime bluntly. "He gave me an order and I didn't like it."

"And you didn't like taking orders, Your Grace?"

"Your grandfather wished me to kill my father and order King's Landing burnt to the ground with wildfire, Princess. Men, women, children, all of them. He should have stood down."

"He would have died anyway!" cried Elaerys.

"But not at my hand, my Princess," said Jaime, getting to his feet. "I did what was necessary and I am hated for it."

"People forget," said Elaerys. "They have forgotten already."

Jaime laughed. "The people never forget. They are only distracted. I will die a Kingslayer, not a King."

Elaerys paused. "I did not know my grandfather," she admitted quietly. "But if we did not defend our kin we would have nothing."

Jaime nearly laughed again. "And I suppose you were never told what your grandmother suffered, my dear? Oh, yes, there were stories I heard from her handmaidens. Did you know that I could hear her scream and cry while my _King_ raped her?"

"Please," Elaerys murmured. "Don't."

Jaime glanced at her sharply but did not speak. "There are hard truths, Elaerys, but they must be known. You have idolized the Targaryens your whole life. They say Targaryens are born brilliant or mad. Aerys was one of the unlucky ones."

Jaime poured himself a wine and stared at her as she lowered her gaze. Her silver-blonde hair fell into her eyes, shielding her face from him. When she re-emerged, her face was blank and utterly void of emotion. She had steeled herself against him.

"What a lovely meeting this has been, Your Grace," she told him, attempting to inject sincerity into her voice.

"I thought you disliked pleasantries, Princess," Jaime mused with a chuckle. "I suppose your upbringing does not truly allow disregard for courtesies."

She sighed. "Or perhaps I have not yet made up my mind about you."

Jaime laughed. "Oh, do let me know when you do. The opinions of others are of the utmost concern to me."

* * *

"Conceited, arrogant, pig-headed, pretentious, infuriating man!" Elaerys cried, and with all the force she could muster, she threw the crystal decanter of water at the stone wall, where it shattered.

"Your Grace," Osorros murmured. "Calm yourself."

"I had to _sit_ there," she hissed. "I had to _sit there while he talked about my family_. Like a naughty girl and her Septa! Do you know how belittling it was to bear?"

"Perhaps we should return to Dorne, my Princess," murmured Issy as she led Elaerys to a chair and took a brush to her hair.

"And allow him to win?" she demanded. "I will not run home scared. I am a Targaryen."

"Princess—" Osorros began.

"Our Princess is right," Bel interrupted defiantly. "Who is to defend her family if not she? The Targaryens and Martells are the noblest families in Westeros, and he may be a King but he is also a _Lannister_ and it was by his father's command that she is left with no family."

"It will not do well to anger the King, no matter how terrible he may be," Osorros said firmly. "I do not like him either, but from what I saw today, my Princess, you are lucky that he did not react terribly to your disrespect."

"I paid him those courtesies in court," Elaerys spat. "I did not embarrass him in front of his people. But I will not make a show of forced pleasantries to the man who killed my grandfather."

Even as she said the words, the King's came back to her. _Did you know that I could hear her scream and cry while my King raped her?_ Elaerys swallowed, her throat dry. Nobody in Dorne had told her this. But then, she supposed most of Queen Rhaella's handmaidens were probably dead, and Jaime had not told anybody else.

Issy rubbed scented oils into her shoulders as she sat. Jasmine and oranges and spices… scents of home.

"I am your most loyal servant, my Princess, but I do not want to see you at the King's mercy for treason. You must watch your tongue when you speak to him." Osorros took her hand and held it firmly, his gaze serious as he leant forward. "I have sworn to protect you always, and I will do this. But you _can_ help me."

Elaerys finally smiled. "You have always been there for me, Osorros. I can only hope that you always will be."

"While there is breath in my lungs and blood in my body, I would lay down my life for you," Osorros confirmed. "I hope that one day I see you as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, a title which is rightfully yours."

"I do believe you mean it," said Elaerys, taking his hand in both of hers and pressing her lips to it lightly. "And if I were Queen, I would have you Lord Commander of my Queensguard and I would grant you whatever you wish, whatever was in my power."

Elaerys allowed herself to calm as Issy continued to rub her shoulders.

"I will leave you now, my Princess," Osorros told her, kneeling to kiss her hand gently. "I am across the hall. I can be here before you call if you need me."

He took his leave of the room as Bel stepped forward to undress her. Relief flooded her body as her clothes fell to the floor, and she was dressed in a white silk nightdress. Malia braided her hair down her back as Gyliana brought forward a basin of cool water for Elaerys to wash her face.

A knock at the door interrupted them, and as Issy answered it, a servant girl stepped into the room and lay a long box on the table, curtsying low to Elaerys before leaving without saying a word.

Issy took the slip of parchment from the box. "It says only 'A Lannister welcome', Your Grace."

Curious, Elaerys removed the lid from the box and raised her eyebrows at the dress that she was met with. Issy pulled it from the box and held it before her.

At first, Elaerys had thought it was silver. But now, in the candlelight it seemed turquoise one minute and green the next, with splashes of yellows and purples and rose depending on how the light fell. It was long and flattering, in the fashion typical of King's Landing.

"It is beautiful, Your Grace," Malia breathed, reaching out to touch the silken fabric.

Elaerys sighed. "Invitations and pleasantries and gifts. I am quite suspicious of our host, indeed."

"You must wear it, Princess. It is too beautiful to be kept in a box," said Issy, brushing out the fabric. She hung it upon the wall. "He may be arrogant, but he does have excellent taste in gowns."

Bel rolled her eyes. "Ela is not to be won over with gilded boxes and decorated with gowns."

"She isn't, indeed," Elaerys murmured, gazing at the gown thoughtfully.


	2. Swords & Sisters

**I'm so sorry that it's taken so long to update... I hope it's worth it... Apologies again for the delay... my life is a little off the rails at the moment, but there you go. Enjoy. If you like it, don't forget to review! I love your reviews and I read every single one. I love you all! x**

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"_Keep quiet my little one," her mother whispered. The sense of urgency did not go unnoticed in her little daughter Elaerys. Nearly six years old, but strikingly pretty already, she was tall for her age and every inch a Targaryen._

"_Where is Aegon? Where is dada?" demanded Elaerys._

"_Where is Balerion?" Rhaenys asked. _

"_Hush, my children," Elia begged as she pushed the little girls into the arms of the terrified kitchen maid, Orissa. "Keep them safe, please," she pleaded, tears in her large eyes. She took the maid's hands in her own and fell to her knees before her. "Keep my daughters safe."_

_The maid nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as she heard a great crash from somewhere in the keep._

"_I must return to the nursery," Elia whimpered. "They have Aegon… They have my son."_

_Her voice broke, and the tears flowed freely now._

"_Elaerys, listen to me," she begged. "You must listen to me, my sweet. You must listen to Orissa. You must leave the city, my darling. Don't be afraid, don't be frightened. Hush now. Keep your sister safe for me."_

"_I want dada," she implored, her eyes filling with tears. "Mama, where are you going?"_

"_I love you both," she called softly as she hurried from the room. "We will meet again, my loves. I am always with you. Always."_

_Elaerys' throat was dry. She cried out as the sound of her mother's footsteps faded, cried out for her brother and her father and most of all, her mother. The kitchen maid placed a stifling hand over the girl's mouth. Rhaenys sobbed uncontrollably._

"_Girls, come," whispered the maid, pulling them towards the tapestry that hid the secret passage from the Red Keep to Flea Bottom. _

_Rhaenys only sobbed harder and crawled beneath their father's bed._

"_Rhaenys!" Elaerys hissed._

_The girl disappeared beneath the bed. Elaerys heard another crash downstairs. Her heart rose in her chest. There were footsteps in the hall. _

"_Rhaenys, please," Elaerys begged. _

_The footsteps grew louder. Orissa grabbed Elaerys around the waist and pulled her into the passage, the tapestry closed over it. They peered together through the crack. _

"_Little girls," the knight called as he stepped into the room. _

_Tears rolled silently down Elaerys' cheeks. She cursed herself for never asking her father how to handle a sword. She was six, two years older than Rhaenys. She should have known. She had to protect her sister. _

_Orissa's grip on her tightened, as if she sensed the young girl was ready to attack._

_The knight glanced around the room. As he moved towards the bed, Elaerys nearly cried out. _

_He reached in until he grabbed Rhaenys by the hair. He dragged her from underneath the bed savagely._

"_He won't hurt her," Orissa breathed._

_Elaerys watched in horror as the knight drew his sword and stabbed her sister. Rhaenys screamed, a blood-curdling, terrified scream, even as the sword was in her. She screamed again when he drew it out, a great red flower blooming across her nightdress._

_The scream rose in Elaerys' throat but Orissa had a hand over her mouth before it could escape. _

_The knight stabbed her again, and again and again, for what seemed like forever, long after Rhaenys had fallen to the floor, her screams dying with her._

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Elaerys woke with a start. She scrambled for the candle and with a shaking hand, lit it. As the dull light flickered about the room, she noticed she was drenched in sweat. She was trembling uncontrollably.

"Rhaenys," she whispered.

She drew on a dressing gown and holding the candle in her shaking hand, left the room. She remembered the passages well despite the years, and took them carefully, waiting for Lannister men to attack at any moment.

She was five again, chasing her father through the corridors, her hair out and dressed hastily in a summer dress.

And there she was with her mother, her beautiful, gentle mother, dutifully learning how to sew.

She was in the garden with Rhaenys, spinning her blindfolded sister around and trying to evade her sightless grasps.

And there was her mother again, this time sickly and frail but still beautiful, clutching a bundle of blankets in her arms, in which was her tiny, red-faced brother Aegon, just as the Maester told her she would bear no more children.

Elaerys reached her father's room, now empty, and stepped inside. She lit one of the torches on the wall and stared about the room, her eyes wide.

It was exactly as she remembered it. Nothing had changed. The bed still stood in the middle of the room. She moved around it and fell to her knees where her sister had died. The stonework was darker there – bloodstains that would never come out, no matter how hard the maids scrubbed it. Elaerys reached out her long, slender fingers and touched it.

Her eyes stung and the tears came freely now. She mourned the sister she had lost as her shaking hand pressed against the stone.

"I'm sorry Rhaenys," she whispered. "I should have protected you. Mother asked me to and I failed."

It was deathly quiet as she wept beside her sister.

"Forgive me, Rhaenys, forgive me," she sobbed.

She fell back to sleep on the cold stone, the candle illuminating her slender, sleeping form until it burned out and gave way to dawn.

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"Elaerys Targaryen!"

Elaerys started with a cry, only to find Jaime Lannister before her. The King looked half-concerned and half-annoyed to find her there.

"Do you have any idea of the commotion you've caused?" he demanded. "Your handmaidens and your shield are calling bloody murder because they found your bed empty this morning, and I find you _here_?"

He pulled Elaerys to her feet and his gaze followed her glance at the floor.

"This was my father's room," she whispered finally. "My sister died here as I watched when I was six years old."

Jaime was silent, but he watched the grief collapse her face.

"My mother asked me to keep her safe," Elaerys whispered.

"You were six years old," Jaime told her. "Amory Lorch would have killed you too. Had Elia known he was coming for you, she would not have asked that of you."

Elaerys slumped onto the bed and placed her head in her hands. "Her screams haunt me every day, Your Grace. And not a night goes by where I don't dream of her. My mother and father would be so disappointed."

"It was not your fault," Jaime assured her, sitting beside her. He didn't know what to do.

Elaerys glanced up at him, her eyes sorrowful.

"She didn't listen to me!" she said, distraught. "I told her to come with us, but she hid under the bed. The maid pulled me into the passage… I couldn't get away. If I had had a knife, Your Grace, I would have killed Ser Amory."

Jaime believed her.

"And _Gregor Clegane_," Elaerys spat. "Did you know my mother was there as he was knighted? It was my father who had him knighted, you know? My mother looked into the eyes of the man who was going to rape and murder her as her husband made him _Ser_."

Jaime did something even he did not expect. He reached for Elaerys' hand.

She glanced at him. Despite the tears, her lilac eyes were still fierce. "Your father had her killed… had them all killed. My mother, my sister and my brother."

"I am not my father, princess," was all Jaime said, letting her hand go. He stood up.

Elaerys got to her feet and strode past him. "You are still his son, you are still a Lannister."

She left the room in a flurry of silk and Jaime was left standing on his own in the room of his old King's son. He glanced once at the stain that was little Rhaenys Targaryen, the mischievous little girl he remembered well, and left.

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**There we are! More Jaime/Elaerys to follow. Review review review and I will love you forever. **


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